Kimberly wasn't the first to catch Calum's eye. Abigail wasn't the first one who had been so enchanted by Calum either, although she had been the one who the clique had agreed had the "biggest chance, Stella aside."

No— Calum had always been sought after by the opposite gender; he was extremely good-looking and exceedingly wealthy, and any girl would be stupid to pass him up if he wanted a night, even if it just for the sex.

"What about that redhead then," I asked, nodding towards a flustered ginger that was trying vainly to ward of a persistent group of guys offering her a drink.

Calum stared at her for a few seconds before ginning. "I like her."

"Of course— Calum to the rescue," I joked as Calum weaved through the crowd. Helping Calum choose his hook-ups was a hobby of mine— playing matchmaker, I suppose.

Calum liked the girl— virgin, unsurprisingly enough. He continued seeing her for a month, then two, then three, until it was apparent that she wanted a relationship in which there were only two people. Calum couldn't agree to that, and so he broke it off in the coy way that boys, allowing the girl to cut the string after they hand the girl the scissors.

"Was I too harsh?" Calum asked, the pattern of wrinkles appearing, eyes squeezed shut in thought, remorse.

"You were honest, Calum," I reassured him, pecking his cheek and leaning down to whisper in his ear. "You did what was right, which is more than what many girls could hope for."

"Not more than what you could hope for," he joked.

"On the contrary, I have to guard myself closely," I replied, kissing him as he rolled me on my back. "You're lucky you have me— I was asked out three times the past week, although one of them was dared."

"I know I'm lucky," Calum had told me that day, and I had felt a swirl of giddiness and satisfaction. Of all the compliments I heard on a daily basis, Calum's always felt the most satisfying, the most fulfilling. It was almost like reassurance that I was who I wanted to be— to seem.

Yes I'm pretty. Yes I'm talented, smart, stunning, hot, funny, kind, etcetera etcetera. Yes, but Calum Remington, the gorgeous blue-eyed boy wonder, thinks so too.

---

Bzzzzt

The doorbell buzzed again as I wiped my eyes blearily and checked my phone— nine seventeen in the morning with a forecast high of 64 and three texts from Jordan.

'U up?' —8:43 am

'Wanna get breakfast together?' —8:49 am

'I'm coming over' —8:56 am

As the doorbell buzzed yet again, I dialed up "God, Sex".

"Mornin' Stella," Jordan's husky voice greeted me.

"Huh. You sound surprisingly good on the phone," I said, genuinely impressed. "Very husky— I can understand the appeal in calling you now."

"Finally. Now are you going to open the door or not?" He asked, this time banging on the door

"Um, no. I'm not dressed yet, and there's no reason for you to see any more bedhead than absolutely necessary," I told him, slipping on my clothes and walking into the bathroom. Turning on the shower, I squeezed some toothpaste onto my toothbrush before starting to brush my teeth.

"Stella, open the door. Or I'm going to have another go at picking the— are you brushing your teeth?" He asked, his tone conveying his shock.

"Hesh, enth thath he heower," I told him before rinsing my mouth. "Yes, and that's the shower. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to undress and shower so go entertain yourself for five minutes."

"I really need to learn how to pick locks," he muttered. "Enjoy your shower as I sit lamely outside of your door."

"I will," I told him, laughing as I hung up.

What a cutie.

---

"Hmmhmmmhmm," I hummed to the tune of Bronte's song, 'Nymphetamine' as I came out of the bathroom in a towel. Turning around, I found myself facing a very amused Jordan Brooks.

"This must be heaven," he said, picking himself off the wall and picking me to kiss me.

"Oh my— Brooks! What are you—"

"Relax Stella, I didn't pick your lock," he said, obviously amused at my anger. "I just asked your kind— and beautiful— neighbor Samantha to open the door for me."

"And she did?" I shouted, struggling to get out of his arms as he gently set me in front of my closet.

"Yeah. And apparently she thinks that you should bring more— what was it— 'drool-worthy men' to your flat," he told me, opening the door to my closet. "Seems like you— Wow."

He stopped mid-sentence at the sight of my walk-in closet. Polished oak with cream carpeting— it was a gift from my mother, something she put into the remodeling plans before I moved in. The previous layout had more bedrooms than needed, so my mother just had the place refurbished for one. I suppose it was a bit unnecessary, but my mother had insisted.

"My daughter shouldn't have to live in a pigsty," she had said, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear. "Now you don't have an excuse for not looking presentable at all times."

"My mother kind of overdid herself with the remodeling— she loves decorating," I explained from behind a screen as I changed.. Honor system— I trust the boy to have enough decency as to not peek.

"I guess that I won't have to buy you any more shoes," He joked from the other side of the screen, and I poked my head out to find him examining my shoe collection intensely.

"Aw, how sweet of you! You know that a girl never has too many shoes," I teased.

"I'll keep that in mind," he responded, selecting a pair of patterned grey flats from the shelf. "Wear these."

I cocked an eyebrow and took the flats from him. "How did you know that these are my favorite?"

"Just a feeling," he said, rubbing his neck sheepishly. "They remind me of you."

"Huh. And I thought you were going to say it was because they matched your eyes," I said, making him laugh.

"That too," he said as I slid on my clothes. The flats went surprisingly well with my outfit, making me like them even more.

"They were a gift from my mother," I told Jordan, not particularly sure why I was telling him that. Maybe because it was because he had the same, stoney grey eyes as her— the ones that made her look eternally elegant and professional while my green eyes did nothing for me but make me look like a child.

"Your mother sounds like quite the lady," Jordan said, pursing his lips. "But she doesn't seem like a kind woman."

"My mother's not kind," I said, laughing. "Whoever says so has clearly never met her. She's like the polar opposite of kind. She doesn't care; she minds."

"Let's talk about something else," Jordan said, patting me on the head. "You look really gloomy when you talk about your family."

"Oh yeah? Let's talk about your family," I told him, making him smile.

"You wanna hear about my fa—"

rrRrRRRm

"Er, did your stomach just growl?" I asked, one word from breaking down and laughing. Jordan looked so embarrassed— his face was tinged pink and his ears were completely red. He was the epitome of mortification.

"...Yes," he admitted. That was all I needed to burst out laughing. "It's not funny, okay?"

"Yes-haha-it-haah-is," I laughed, making him pout. Seeing his unamused face, I quickly recovered myself and patted him on the head. "You're adorable, Brooks."

"I don't want to hear any more," he groaned, covering his ears. "Stop making fun of me."

"Okay, okay," I said trying to pat him on the head again as he fended off my attacks. He was just like a puppy— hungry, adorable and funny. "Let's go get you some food."

"...Never bring this up again."

"Never say never, Brooks. Ever heard of blackmail?"

---

"—and then Whitney showed up completely red and hair all over the place, telling us that it was true that she and Hunter were dating. Everyone was speechless— Whitney Lemaistre, the innocent lily, and Hunter Gatly, the hulking receiver, were an item. Like, what?" I asked, laughing as I bit off another hunk of pizza. Jordan raised his eyebrows at my story.

"And the best part is, they got together on the day we met— remember? At the club? Hunter and Whitney both pulled a no-show, but apparently it was because they were hooking up and not because they were studying like we'd assumed," I said, smiling as I took another bite of my food.

"Well, it seems like all your friends are hooking up with people," Jordan said, taking a sip of his coke. I nodded, swallowing my bite.

"I know right? Stacey and Chad, Whitney and Hunter— all that's left is Quinn, Karen and me, but I think Quinn secretly has a thing for Tim—nice guys were always her type—and Karen met someone online," I told Jordan. He smiled lazily before popping the question.

"So, Junior year— are you going to finally date someone?"

I paused mid-bite, my pizza drooping down sadly when it wasn't received.

Am I going to date someone? I mean, Jordan was right. It wasn't like dating a person meant that much anyway, since most people broke up sooner or later. However, I would have to start seriously considering men, or my parents will intervene in my love life and set me up with people they deem suitable.

"Maybe," I said cheekily, batting my eyelashes at him. "Are you suggesting somebody?"

"Maybe," he replied, smirking at me. I rolled my eyes at him and polished off my pizza, savoring every last bite. Most people I knew avoided the crust like the plague, but I found it equally enjoyable— pizza is a well-rounded food, pun intended.

"Well, what now?" I asked as Jordan yawned. It was eleven pm, December 14th, the day before finals. Jordan and I had agreed to spend the day together— turns out he's actually extremely smart although he doesn't study half as much as me. That said, he's still acing his classes, something that I was extremely envious of. Two weeks ago, I would have told you that Jordan Brooks was a playboy, and smart people aren't playboys. Today? Frankly, I'm impressed myself.

"Now, we go home and sleep," he said, fishing out his wallet from the pocket of his baggy sweats.

We had both dressed our absolute worst— seriously, finals were tomorrow and I didn't give a damn if the world was ending. My Managerial Accounting final was my first final and I tried my best not to think about it which, thanks to reverse psychology, caused me to think about it even more.

Finals drained the life out of me— I lived and breathed school material during the week before finals. If someone—anyone—asked me a question even relatively similar to one on the test, I was sure that I would automatically lapse into nerd-mode. It wasn't good for my social life, and thankfully everyone was too busy to pay attention to me. Living and breathing a semester's worth of work made me act crazy, and I was well aware of that. However, I made an exception for Jordan— the genius could survive seeing me act like I was drunk off my ass, and I had blackmail just in case.

"Jordan, you're really not so bad," I told him as slid behind him on his motorcycle. One of these days, I would lecture him and force him to buy an actual car, but that would have to wait until after I regurgitated all of the information in my brain.

"You're not so bad yourself, Stella," he responded, revving up the bike. As he sped through the night air, I hugged him tightly and nuzzled my face into his neck. His warm body sharply contrasted with the biting winter air. It was probably going to snow soon, but not yet. Finals came first.

Clinging onto Jordan as we sped through the night, I thought about everything and anything. I hated finals— they were tiring, taxing and spiritually, mentally, and physically draining. I hibernate for a few days after every final, and those days are—if not the—some of the best days of my life. Netflix was a god— it granted me the newest binge-worthy reality shows and the dramatic crime thrillers. Jordan would interrupt me, but he was growing on me. Seriously, he wasn't as bad as I had originally thought— he texted me often, treated me to good food and listened to me rant. He was also brilliant—a true genius—and I was genuinely impressed and thoroughly envious.

However, he was different from Cal— Calum. Calum was... amazing. His blue eyes and radiant smile . He knew me inside and out, and I him. We shared so many things and could relate to each other in so many ways— parents, pressures, roles, we helped each other through them all. He and I started out much like Jordan and I did, except that it was a mutual attraction. He was so different from me— he was rebellious when I innately agreed; he was passionate while I saw duties and roles— he was everything I didn't want to be but I was still inexplicably drawn to him.

Do I love him? I don't know, but I can't imagine a life without him. A life without someone like Cal...

It's been a few weeks since I last spent time with Calum; sure there had been texts and meetings in the hallways at school, but Calum never stayed for long. He was always off to train or study. The only reasons I can give are that he's finally matured enough to realize that grades are important, or that Kimberly's appearance has somehow...

No— that's impossible. No girl could ever affect Cal that much, especially not her. Not the plain, boring, virgin who smiled and tried her best even though she was getting nowhere. No.

No.

"Stella?" Jordan asked, snapping me out of my daze. We had arrived at the base of my apartment while I had been off in the world that was my mind.

"Oh, we're here," I noted. Jordan knelt down next to me and examined my face, eyebrows creased in concern.

"Are you okay? You didn't say a word for most of the ride," he said before grinning. "You afraid of motorcycles?"

"I'm not that girl who screams at spiders, Brooks," I said, rolling my eyes at him. I was insulted that after about three weeks of honest, down-to-earth talks, he still thought I was somewhat of an airhead.

"Mm, I know," he said, hugging me and nuzzling my hair. "You smell nice today."

"Brooks, you don't get brownie points for trying too hard," I told him, shrugging out of his embrace.

"I wasn't. You do— of pizza, my favorite," he said, grinning cheekily. I had to chuckle at that— the boy was adorable.

"'Night Jordan," I said, waving as I went up the stairs.

"'Night, Stella," Jordan said, and I could hear him rev up his bike.

I yawned soundly as he drove away, rubbing my eyes blearily as I pushed the button to the elevator. Finals, finals, and blue eyes.

---

Author Note:

Hello readers! Here's Chapter VI, hope you like it.

What do you think about Jordan? In comparison to Calum?

Thanks for reading, and be sure to vote and comment!

—Littlewhims